Soul and Anchor
by Ananke
Summary: Ezri Dax and Julian Bashir contempelate life and career changes. Set post-What We Leave Behind, loosely based on the 'Avatar' books.


Disclaimer: ST: DS9 and all related characters owned by Paramount Studios, no  
copyright infringement intended.  
---  
...that was the first thing I had to learn about her, and maybe the hardest  
I've ever learned about  
anything-that she is her own, and what she gives me is of her choosing, and the  
more precious because  
of it. Sometimes a butterfly will come to sit in your open palm, but if you  
close your hand, one way or  
another, it-and it's choice to be there-are gone. -Barbara Hambly, Dragonsbane  
---  
  
"Always driven toward new shores,or carried hence without hope of return, shall  
we never, on the ocean  
of age, cast anchor for even a day?"  
  
"I know Worf has been contacting you regularly, Dax, but isn't that a bit  
depressing for Klingon love  
poetry?" The smooth, slightly foreign voice tickled her ears from behind.  
  
"Oh...no." Glancing up with a faintly distracted smile, Ezri Dax stuffed her  
padd under an arm, matching  
stride with Deep Space Nine's doctor as he strode along the promenade. "Julian,  
it's a quotation, old  
Earth, by Alphonse de Lamartine. Nog found it in the database and  
became...well, fascinated. I've been  
sure to put in extra time with him since the Jem'Hadar attacked the station..."  
  
"And the Defiant." Grim tones to reflect grim memories. Time had passed since  
the attack itself, but fears  
and haunts were fresh. Nog and Ezri had been on the Defiant. Had saved the  
station, in fact. Become  
heroes. Heroism had led to career changes for the counselor and more counseling  
for the boy. Sparing a  
glance, he touched her elbow just slightly, drawing attention back from the  
padd. "It certainly looks like  
his enthusiasm for morbidity has you fascinated."  
  
"It's a very good quote, Julian." Angling her head up, the young Trill smiled.  
"I can see his point.  
Sometimes we all get so swept away in war and business that we forget to  
savor..." Voice trailing off, she  
paused. "You're still uncomfortable with my co-commanding the Gamma Quadrant  
expedition, aren't  
you?"  
  
"I think you could use a little more experience under your pips."  
  
"Three hundred years isn't enough?"  
  
"Dax, Dax...Ezri." He caught her arms, voice dipping. "I've no doubt you will  
someday be a fine command  
officer. Ezri Tiegan had the makings. Dax simply provides a ready made window."  
  
"You think I'm riding up the rank ladder on memories that aren't even mine.  
Well, they are mine, Julian,  
as mine as they were Curzon's, or Joran's, or Jadzia's..."  
  
"Don't turn this to Jadzia."  
  
"Worf hasn't."  
  
There, again. He felt the frustration building up, exasperation mingling with  
affection. Somehow, without  
raising her tones, Ezri managed to convey all the contempt in the universe for  
her predecessor-at least,  
his adoration of that predecessor.   
  
She looked away again, motioning him to a corner, hands resting on her hips.  
"Julian, I refuse to argue  
like children over the dead, or those the dead left behind. My decision to  
follow command aspirations isn't  
about Jadzia at all, it's about not being Jadzia, or any of the others. They  
gave me a great deal, helped  
me understand that I could do the job properly, but that's all they did, made  
me understand that I could  
follow childhood dreams. I've always wanted this. Ezri Tiegan wanted it before  
Ezri Dax, and Dax may  
never want it again after Ezri. You see? I know my mind, even among the rest of  
them."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
Poking him in the ribs lightly, the Trill took the doctor's arm, leading him  
into Quark's. "I've been here  
nearly as long as the rest of you, Julian, in memory, and I still wouldn't  
presume to say I've experienced  
the half of your troubles...but I have suffered. Ezri may be young and  
inexperienced, but Dax is ancient.  
Part of growing old is finding new priorities. Looking back and pulling up old  
dreams, old desires. The Trill  
may just be the only species lucky enough to have the chance to actually  
fulfill those old desires, instead  
of simply regretting them on a deathbed."  
  
"Precisely." Catching her elbow again, the doctor waved Quark away, leaning  
forward on his stool. "I  
watched Jadzia Dax die, and saw her husband nearly follow in grief. I'll not be  
on the other side of the  
experience simply because you want a red undershirt."  
  
"You like undermining the grander things, do you?" Smiling again, with less  
amusement, she cupped his  
hands in her palm. "I won't refuse the assignment. You won't be on the other  
side of the deathbed  
experience, either..."  
  
"You have no way of knowing that. The mission is dangerous, very dangerous,  
Dax, and you have to  
consider the risks, not as Ezri, not as a counselor, not as my..." He rubbed  
his head tiredly. "Consider the  
symbiont."  
  
"I have. Every day since I woke up with the slug in me." Ezri pulled his head  
down, meeting his gaze  
firmly. "Now, respectfully, I've told myself to shut up. Things are changing,  
Julian. I can't stay the same  
just to give everyone else leverage."  
  
He sighed. "I suppose I'll miss you, Counselor Ezri Tiegan Dax."  
  
The Trill held a hand over her chest briefly in mock parody of pledge. "I'll  
come back to you in any  
incarnation, Julian."  
  
"Now if only the captain would manage the same." Head rising, the doctor  
narrowed his eyes. "This  
command stint isn't somehow connected to Sisko, is it, Dax?"  
  
"Well, I suppose I have taken a few interests from him over the years..."  
  
"Ezri!"  
  
"But really, Julian, I have enough sense not to change career tracks for it.  
Besides, Ben was on the  
mentoree side at times instead."  
  
"Jadzia was a battle-ax." He agreed carefully, wincing in remembrance of the  
more forceful moments.  
  
"I was referring to Curzon."  
  
"Ah, so even joined Trill women stick together in a fight."   
  
"You're incorrigible."   
  
"Counseling required?"  
  
"You'll just have to make an appointment with my assistant. I have briefings  
with Nerys."  
  
"Neglectful girl. Your assistant isn't half as endearing. I'll wait."  
  
"Then you get a private session, lucky you."  
  
"You make it sound as if it's a familiar gift."  
  
"Oh, I've given one or two. To a grieving widower." Her eyes sparkled gleefully  
across the table.  
  
"Isn't that against some Trill law of yours? Cohorting with former spouses?"  
  
"We were in a prison, Julian. We thought we were going to die." Her voice  
dipped somberly.  
  
"Balderdash. That Klingon will never die. Death wishes don't sink through that  
thick forehead of his."  
Grasping both hands in his, he strove for lightness.  
  
"You're afraid for me. Well, I understand. I'm afraid for myself at times.  
Counseling...is a safe career, for  
the most part, but it doesn't offer the same thrill as the other tracks. Only  
in some cases. Take Deanna  
Troi, for instance..."  
  
"Jadzia's very favorite."  
  
A brief smile flashed. "Anyhow...Troi has made a very good niche for herself as  
captain's advisor, her  
empathic traits allow it. For the rest of us, the nonempaths,  
nontelepaths...its not nearly as glamorous a  
role. No amount of talking can help everyone, most of us have to walk ourselves  
through our own  
shadows. That's what I'm doing, I guess. Shadows be gone." Nodding, she clinked  
her glass with his, and  
smiled. "Do you understand?"  
  
"I understand...shadows." His answer was slow, measured. "May we each find a  
way to make them be  
gone...without casting anchor in despair."  
  
"You are a poet, well, thanks to Nog and Mr. Alphonse de Lamartine..."  
  
"Just like you're now a command track officer, thanks to youthful dreams and  
your infernal noncorporal  
Ben. Worf too, probably."  
  
"Well." Her lips curved. "We all have our weaknesses."  
  
"Ezri." Raising his voice to catch her as she began to stride away, the doctor  
shook his head. "Just be  
careful."  
  
"I'm the soul of caution, Julian." Waving a hand in dramatic dismissal, she  
left.  
  
"No, Dax." He shared a glance with Morn. "You're the soul of Jadzia. Very  
frightening, that."  
  
FIN 


End file.
